Birdeater

Chapter 4

Thick gloves kept the wire from cutting into his own flesh. When he pulled it taut around her throat, it cut into her bruised skin.

She was already dead. Her eyes had that glazed-over look and her mouth was hanging open. It was cracked at the corners and split across the bottom. Dry and bloody. She had ripped it open with her own teeth trying to fight back.

Much good it had done. He unwrapped the wire and set it down on the plastic covering the floor.

It was starting to get colder. The cold always sank into the basement walls first. The dead woman had already been so pale. The settling chill made her look like she was carved out of ice. It made the livid wound look even ghastlier. He traced his gloved fingertips over the very edges. He had pulled tight enough to make a deep impression, just barely breaking the skin in a few places. He could see spaces here and there along the line where blood had just started to eke through. Now it was coagulating.

The killer's tongue flicked over his lips and he leaned in close. He could still catch a trace of her perfume clinging to her wrists. She smelled like warm vanilla; some trashy body spray.

She had been nowhere near as put-together as she looked. If he went through her personal affects, what might he find? Divorce papers? A dwindling bank account? Blackmail nudes from an overbearing employer? Her lipstick had smeared easily. It was halfway across her cheek during the initial struggle. The name brand on her pumps had faded on the soles. Her skirt had been ripped and repaired along the seam. Secondhand pencil skirt. Secondhand blazer. What had she been trying to achieve?

As far as he was concerned, it suited her better. Trying to make herself into something she wasn't. Neglecting her husband and children in the process. Probably driving off to leave them behind in another city or another state. Pursuing ambitions that would never see fruition. She deserved to be on his floor. Now, at least, her abandoned family could move on. Anyone she had left behind would secretly be relieved to have the enormous burden of her cheap infidelity lifted off their shoulders.

He wished he could strangle her all over again. She had been one of the easier ones. Some of them fought like they had something to survive for. She had gone limp after one good punch to the face.

He hated that she gave up. But he knew that it was just in her nature to give up. She couldn't be blamed. She could only pay the price.

She was not as tall as she looked without the heels. Maybe he would not have to break any bones to get her to fit, this time.

It depended on how self-indulgent he was feeling.

:::

Hugh was earlier than usual to the scene. He had been nearby when he got the call, having breakfast at some shithole diner.

The body was still being extracted. Hugh had an uneasy feeling about how long it was taking.

"Are they having trouble with the equipment?" He asked. The sheriff was standing close by. He had never seen a red-faced man look so pale.

"She's in pieces." The sheriff swept his hat off his bald head and swiped a big hand across his forehead before plopping it back down. "Goddamn pieces."

Hugh's whole body went cold. He was going to vomit up his eggs.

"He keeps evolving." He said quietly, not tearing his eyes away from the site. The crew was starting to make its way back from the mouth of the cave. "They took their pictures?"

"Best they could."

"What parts were ripped off?"

"Her arms."